Of Children and Flowers
by Sarah Kathleen
Summary: Rewrite of 'Proving Grounds' extreme AU, historically inaccurate crossover with 'The Scarlet Pimpernel.' On the rare occasion, the only thing with which to fight a bloody revolution is revolution itself.
1. Cast

_Disclaimer:_ I do not own anything of or relating to the works of Jane Austen, Baroness Emmuska Orczy, or C.S. Forester.

_Genre_: action/adventure, romance, suspense

_Summary_: On the rare occasion, the only thing with which to fight a bloody revolution… is revolution itself.

_Warnings_: extreme AU, historically inaccurate

_Author's Note:_ This is one scary beast, but I think I want to tackle it… Hopefully I'll pull it off. : ) No knowledge of any Jane Austen book or is required, as I have taken both worlds, thrown them together and mixed them up with a bit of history, then taken that combination and mutilated it beyond repair.

Also: for sake of this story, the Bennets' last name has been changed to Beaumont. It's sounds a bit more French, lol.

If a character has been renamed to fit the story, the originating character will be denoted in parenthesis. Please recognize that, simply because a character is denoted as historical, this does not mean that everything I attribute to that character is likewise historical.

**Cast of Characters  
**underlining denotes a historical figure

**_French Gentry/Military/Citizens  
_**_Elizabeth de Beaumont (Gentry)  
_(Elizabeth Bennet) Twin sister to Jane. Was engaged to Marcellus Jerrard before the Revolution began, at which point he told her that he was only close to her in order to find the whereabouts of other French aristocrats.

_Jane de Beaumont (Gentry)  
_(Jane Bennet) Twin sister to Elizabeth; considered the beautiful twin.

_Paul Chauvelin (Citizen)  
_Member of the Committee of Public Safety; spearheads the efforts to capture the Scarlet Pimpernel. Formerly intimate friends with Armand St. Just and Marguerite Blakeney. Negotiates with Marguerite to save Armand in exchange for information of the Scarlet Pimpernel.

_Marcellus Jerrard (Citizen)  
_(George Wickham) Member of the Committee of Public Safety and cohort of Chauvelin. Is also on the hunt for the Scarlet Pimpernel and the members of that League. Is still in love with Elizabeth de Beaumont, a daughter of the French aristocracy.

_Marquis de Beaumont de Basserive (Gentry)  
_(Mr. Bennet) Father of the de Beaumont girls, member of the former French aristocracy.

_Mary de Beaumont (Gentry)  
_(Mary Bennet) Third daughter of the de Beaumont girls.

_Catherine de Beaumont (Gentry)  
_(Catherine "Kitty" Bennet) Fourth of the de Beaumont girls.

_Lydia de Beaumont (Gentry)  
_(Lydia Bennet) Fifth of the de Beaumont girls. Escapes from prison with the help of Josephine Aldridge. Is led to Marseille by Armand St. Just.

_Marquise de Beaumont de Basserive (Gentry)  
_(Mrs. Bennet) Wife of the Marquis, mother of the de Beaumont girls; member of the former French aristocracy. Is murdered by Marcellus Jerrard.

_Augustin Robespierre (Citizen)  
_Younger brother to Maximilien Robespierre. Intimate friend of Napoleon Bonaparte.

_Maximilien Robespierre (Citizen)  
_Eventual head of the Committee of Public Safety; active member of the Jacobin party.

Jean-Paul Marat (Citizen)  
Leader of the Jacobin party at the beginning of the Terror. Eventually assassinated by a member of les Enfants de la France and succeeded by Maximilien Robespierre.

_Napoleon Bonaparte (Military)  
_A native born Italian, he has recently recaptured the city of Toulon for the French, taking it city out of British possession. Is intimate friends with Augustin Robespierre.

**British Gentry/Military**

_Georgiana Darcy  
_Sister to Fitzwilliam Darcy and cousin to Richard Fitzwilliam. Intimate friend to Josephine Aldridge at the time of her kidnapping. In love with Sir Andrew Ffoulkes

_Caroline Bingley  
_Publicly snobbish and cruel, secretly helps to aid Georgiana in aiding the French. Engaged to Lord Anthony Dewhurst.

_Marianne Brandon  
_Wife to Col. Christopher Brandon. Intimate friend to Georgiana Darcy and Anne Wentworth.

_Marguerite Blakeney  
_Formerly Marguerite St. Just. French actress, married to Sir Percy Blakeney. Unintentionally sent a French family of the nobility to their deaths; becomes estranged with her husband upon his learning of it. Exchanges the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel for the promise of her brother's life and safety, unwittingly betraying her husband to his greatest enemy. Travels to France to warn her husband. Intimate friends with Josephine Aldridge from her school days.

_Anne Wentworth  
_Wife to Capt. Wentworth, intimate friend to Marianne Brandon and Georgiana Darcy. Lives aboard the _Laconia_ with her husband.

_Col. Richard Fitzwilliam  
_Cousin to Fitzwilliam and Georgiana Darcy; actively aids the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel, but is unable to join thanks to his military duties. Secretly engaged to Josephine Aldridge at the time of her kidnapping.

_Capt. Fredrick Wentworth  
_Husband to Anne Wentworth, friend to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam and Fitzwilliam Darcy. Personal acquaintance to Horatio Hornblower.

_Col. Christopher Brandon  
_Husband to Marianne Brandon, friend and mentor to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam.

**League of the Scarlet Pimpernel**

_Sir Percy Blakeney  
_The legendary Scarlet Pimpernel, co-founder of the League. Husband to Marguerite Blakeney

_Fitzwilliam Darcy  
_Co-founder of the League. Is eventually charged with finding and rescuing the eldest two Beaumont girls.

_Charles Bingley  
_Intimate friend of Fitzwilliam Darcy, brother to Caroline Bingley. Is charged with the initial finding and rescuing of the eldest two Beaumont girls.

_Armand St. Just  
_Republican and brother to Marguerite Blakeney. Intimate friend of Sir Percy; former intimate friend of Paul Chauvelin.

_Lord Anthony Dewhurst  
_English lord and friend of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. Engaged to Caroline Bingley.

_Sir Andrew Ffoulkes  
_Friend of Lord Anthony Dewhurst, in love with Georgiana Darcy. Is planning to request permission of Fitzwilliam Darcy to marry Georgiana.

**_Les Enfants de la France_**

_Mam'zelle France - Josephine Aldridge  
_Leader and founder of les Enfants de la France; coordinates and helps to execute all large-scale rescues, etc. Half French daughter of an English gentleman. Spent most of her life in France, becoming an actress. Intimate friend to Marguerite Blakeney, nee St. Just, and equally republican. Secretly engaged to Col. Richard Fitzwilliam.

_Suzette Renaud  
_Lieutenant in the _les Enfants de la France_; in love with Raoul Maitland.

_Gaston Lascelles  
_Lieutenant in the_ les Enfants de la France _

_Clarice Maitland  
_Lieutenant in the _les Enfants de la France_

_Raoul Beauregard  
_Lieutenant in the _les Enfants de la France_; in love with Suzette Renaud

_Corbett Gallard  
_Lieutenant in the _les Enfants de la France_; married to Melisande Gallard

_Melisande Gallard  
_Lieutenant in the_ les Enfants de la France_; married to Corbett Gallard


	2. Prologue

_Disclaimer, of sorts_: I would like to add, lol, that my interpretation of the French--that they tend to be negligent in so far as propriety is concerned and rather impetuous--is based not on my own thoughts, but on the interpretation given to us by Baroness Orczy. I should like to add that I myself am partially French. Not much, but there you are. grins

_Author's Note_: This is basically a reposting of the original prologue. I've edited it, of course, but it's basically the same. Those of you who've read it… please be patient with me. The changes will start to show up relatively soon; lol, as you saw, I created an entirely new secret society, this one on the French side. I've gotta have that show up soon, right? I'm SO sorry about the wait; I've been preparing for college most of the summer, but now that I'm actually moved in and everything, I think things will be much smoother.

Thank you all so much for reading, for enjoying, and for being patient with me. I know I'm not the best at regular updates… so thanks for bearing with me.

My love to all!

Prologue

Secret engagements were all well and good in theory, but in practice, they were terribly difficult to maintain, not to mention rather vexatious. Josephine Aldridge was hardly a shy person by nature, being raised French and therefore having not the inhibitions that the English possessed, and thus this whole "secret engagement" business was hardly romantic in her eyes. She loved her fiancée dearly, more than anything, and if his word was to be trusted--which it was--he loved her as well; why should they not tell the world? Only her good Catholic faith (which she did her best to remain loyal to despite the English dislike of Catholics in general and her own countrymen's growing anger with the Church) and her love for her very English father kept her from demanding that they be married within the week.

Her faith told her that such things had to be entered calmly and sedately, with plenty of time for reflection. Divorce was a sin, and therefore marriage was not (despite what some practitioners seemed to believe, she thought with distaste) to be entered lightly. As for her father, the inhibitions she herself _lacked _were ones her father _possessed _in spades. He would demand that proper decorum be followed to the letter, and she would do whatever he asked of her. Her mother, wretch that the woman was, Josephine would willingly and happily ignore; her father, however, was as dear to her as her fiancée, if such a thing were possible, and if he wanted her to wait for propriety's sake, then wait she would.

Not only this, but her beloved was also very English in his mannerisms, which meant that propriety was near and dear to his heart as well. Only an extreme love for both gentlemen kept Josephine from allowing her French heritage to take control and show her exasperation.

However, despite all of England's shortcomings, the country really had done her nothing but good. Here she had truly found happiness. She had friends that wouldn't betray her to the guillotine at a moment's notice. She had found a love that she had never believed possible. Executions were not celebrated affairs where spectators were happiest when the blood spurted them. People could, and did, trust each other. She was _happy _in England.

Depend on her wretched mother to ruin everything.

Settled in for the night with her book and favorite silk sleeping gown, Josephine was quite prepared not stir from her bed for at least ten good, solid hours. In fact, so absorbed was she that, despite her typically keen senses, she did not hear the slight disturbances coming from the lower floor of her father's home, Ravensgate by name.

When it seemed she could keep her eyes open no longer, Josephine sighed and regretfully shut her book. It crossed her mind, not for the first time, that she would get so very much more done in her life if she never needed to sleep. She had half a mind, in fact, to try it, though familiarity with such experiments kept her from more than a passive thought. She set the book on the nearby nightstand and was prepared to blow out the candle when she realized that her typical nightly tea, which was brought to her every evening before she went to sleep, had not come.

What an odd occurrence! The help was extremely reliable, and it was one of the few demands she ever really made. Having grown up in France, where the general unrest had grown great enough to render servitude of any sort a severe grievance that was highly frowned upon by the general populace, Josephine was used to doing things herself. As far as she was concerned, the help was more for good conversation than actual "help," and she was careful to keep her demands few and insubstantial.

Thinking to get the tea herself, she rose and donned her robe, carelessly exiting her rooms and meandering down the hall to the staircase. It was there that the heavy stillness of the house occurred to her. The hour was not so very late, and so some activity should have been discernible. The entire house, in fact, was entirely too dim to be considered normal, and she paused at the top of the steps.

Not even the night doorman was at his post. This was, indeed, cause for no little concern. Now more focused with finding her father's employees than getting her nightly tea, Josephine descended the steps as quietly as she could, hardly daring to breathe. Something was wrong, frightfully wrong, and she was beginning to wonder if perhaps venturing from her bed had been wise.

Her father was away on business, but her fiancée's cousin, who was also her intimate friend's brother, lived roughly eight miles from her father's estate--the Darcys owned roughly half of Derbyshire, and the Aldridges owned the other half, and had for nearly a century. Ought she to send for him? No, she quickly decided. No need to disturb poor Mr. Darcy because she was feeling a bit skittish. More than likely there was nothing amiss, she reasoned, and there was no need to bother anyone.

Unless, of course, she didn't find any of the servants. Then, perhaps, she would send for help.

Her first thought, naturally, was to look in the kitchen, and so that was the direction she went, crossing the dining hall--for it was, truly, a hall, rather than a room; she rather thought she would have preferred a room--to cautiously enter the kitchen. At first, there was nothing, save for the same dimness which was all over the house. There was, however, a bit more light in the kitchen--the dying fire was serving its purpose even as it smoldered in mere embers. Josephine went over and stoked the fire a bit, bringing it to a low flame. Now better able to see, she turned to inspect the kitchen.

It was odd, seeing it so empty. There was _always _someone in the kitchen. But that was just the problem--she had yet to see _anyone_, quite literally. More than a little nervous, she slowly picked the poker back up, holding it rather like she'd seen Richard, her fiancée, hold it while mock-dueling his cousin, the only difference being that she kept it pointed toward the grown. Nervously she peered around the room, slowly moving forward, half expecting someone to jump out and shout at her, as they would in a joke.

Then she saw the familiar form of one of the cooks, Burns by name, sitting in a chair at the small, square table, and she sighed in relief. "Mr. Burns," she said to him, her words possessing a slight French accent, "you frightened me most severely!" She set down the poker and went to address him face to face. "I thought that everyone had been murdered or-"

She broke off in horror. Mr. Burns was staring out at the world with a look of pain and terror, and in his throat was a gaping wound. Blood drenched his front, running slowly down him to drip onto the floor. Her eyes, in some sort of transfixed horror, followed the rivulets to where they gathered on the stone floor, forming a puddle of no mean size.

A whimper emerged unbidden from her as she stumbled back in terror, feeling vaguely ill. "Mr. Whitmore!" she cried desperately, praying the old butler would hear. "Someone! _Anyone_! Mr. Burns-"

One of the nearby shadows moved, stepping into the dim light, and she let out a low scream. "They won't 'ear you, mam'zelle," he said in a menacing growl. "Their fates were similar."

She backed away as he advanced, too horrified for words. One of her hands hit something--a pot left from dinner. Without thinking, she seized it and hurled it at the man, then turned and fled.

There was a furious roar from behind her as she bashed through the kitchen door. There was another yell, and she realized that she had hit someone as she emerged from the kitchen. She skidded to a halt, thinking that someone had heard her cries, only to have a dirty hand grab at her nightgown.

Josephine shrieked, lashed out with her foot, then ran when she was released. "She's gone for the entry way!" a voice yelled, and there was a response from somewhere ahead of her. What was said, she couldn't tell, but she quickly changed directions, heading for the servants' stair that was hidden behind a panel that was just beside a display cabinet.

She forced herself to think as she raced up the stairs. _There can only be so many of them_, she thought desperately as she emerged in an upstairs corridor. She slid the paneling shut behind her_. They could never fit a whole army in this house, or whatever organization they brought. I simply have to out maneuver them and get to the stables. From there I may escape to Pemberly and the protection of Richard's cousins. I must get to the stables._

Her heart was pounding furiously, and she was shaking so badly that she could hardly stand. Her breathing was labored, and yet her chest was so tight that she was nearly suffocating.

Our Father, who art in Heaven, hallowed by Thy name…

She crept to the edge of the staircase and peered down. One of them was searching behind the curtains--stupid man, how on earth could she have gotten there without being seen?--and another was heading directly for the stairs.

Josephine barely managed to stifle a scream as he began his ascent, and she tucked herself away in the shadows, squeezing her eyes shut and holding her breath even as she thought her lungs might burst.

Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done, on earth as it is in Heaven…

The footsteps approached, but did not pause, or even hesitate. In fact, by some miracle, they continued on past without concern. Josephine opened her eyes, hardly daring to believe it possible. But, there he was, continuing down the hall in his search for her. Now for a way to make her own escape.

Her eyes found the door to a guest room, in which she knew there was another hidden staircase for the servants. She knew, in her heart of hearts, that she had no choice but to gain access to that staircase. It was her only means of escape. And yet her couldn't seem to urge her muscles into movement. She was frozen, paralyzed with fear in her pathetic hiding place.

_Move Josephine_, she thought. _Move. You must move. Now. NOW!_

As quickly and silently as she could, she stole across the hall and grabbed the door handle--locked! She barely managed to suppress the scream of terror and frustration, but somehow did, whirling about to find another door.

"There! At the door!" a gruff voice yelled, and she raced across the hall to another door. _Please open, please open…_

Success! She hurled herself into the room and, seemingly in the same movement, slammed it shut and locked it behind her. It was another guest room--the same room, in fact, that Richard had slept in when a violent storm had rendered him unable to return to Pemberly not three weeks before. The knowledge that her fiancée, a Colonel in the British army and completely dauntless, had been in that exact room not all that very long ago gave her a strange sort of hope, and she quickly made for the entrance to the servants' stair as her pursuers began their assault on the door.

She found the paneling, slid it open, then replaced it all as quickly as she could, then descended the stairs with both haste and care--her efforts would be wholly fruitless if they heard her.

_Give us this day our daily Bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us… _

At the bottom of the steps she pressed her ear against the paneling, and was met with complete silence. After another moment's listening, she gently slid the panel open and stepped into, to her horror, the kitchen_. _

… and lead us not into temptation…

She stepped into that dreaded room, terrified that she would espy the brutally murdered Mr. Burns, and quickly made her way back into the dining hall, the doors having been left open in the pursuit. She crept to the grand double doors at the end of the hall, which opened into the parlor where they received guests. But even as her hand touched the handle, it was pushed open, and only a strength of will she hadn't known she possessed kept her from shrieking as she hid behind the door.

… but deliver us from-

The door was suddenly ripped away, exposing her in full, and she screamed as rough hands seized her and dragged her forward. She struggled fiercely as the men hauled her into the sitting room, but it was in vain. They dragged her along to the entry, then threw her to the ground in the center, and she was quickly circled by roughly a dozen men, all of whom looked capable of brutal murder.

There were tears streaming down her face now--a mixture of terror, grief, and despair. At that moment, a figure entered the circle which she thought she would never be happy to see.

"Mother!" she cried as relief flooded her. "Mother, thank God. Please, help me!"

"That is what I am here to do," she replied coldly in French.

Josephine made to question her, but the woman snapped her fingers, and suddenly the men set upon her, dragging her struggling form from the house. She was drug down the steps and flung into a carriage, where she threw herself at the door, to no avail. Defeated, she dissolved into tears.


End file.
